Not a Curse but a Gift
by DonnaPaperheart
Summary: No one could accuse Ginerva Weasley of being weak-minded. Not when they knew what she'd suffered at the hands of the Dark Lord's horcrux at the delicate age of eleven. Yet under Narcissa's curse, when she wasn't actively animating her, she was as calm and docile as a doll.


**Not a Curse, but a Gift**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

The aspect of the Imperious Curse that Narcissa found perhaps the most fascinating was that the most receptive victims, the ones with the weak minds, were barely aware that they were being controlled. They walked around in a daze, unable to summon the strength of mind to even gain awareness of their situation.

For the less ideal victims, those with strong wills who fought against the caster's control but for whatever reason were unable to break free of their hold, it was ten thousand times worse, more like torture. Seeing everything, hearing and feeling everything, being trapped in their own body but being completely unable to stop themselves.

No one could accuse Ginerva Weasley of being weak-minded. Not when they knew what she'd suffered at the hands of the Dark Lord's horcrux at the delicate age of eleven.

Yet under Narcissa's curse, when she wasn't actively animating her, she was as calm and docile as a doll. Swaying slightly on her feet as she padded after Narcissa through the foyer and past the drawing room into the kitchen.

"Come now, darling," she said, taking a gentle hold of the girl's wrists and leading her over to the kitchen table, "Let's get you cleaned up before we wake you properly."

The meeting had been…difficult, for lack of a better descriptor, and the girl was spotted here and there with red-brown flecks that blended superficially well with her freckled complexion.

There were soft rags in one of the kitchen drawers and Narcissa summoned one to her, and doused it with a bit of conjured water.

The blood came away easily, for the most part, but Narcissa was fastidious, feeling along the juts of her wrists and the long lines of her fingers, and dragging her fingertips along each curve and arch of her face and neck searching for any of the tacky specks she might have missed.

Narcissa lingered for a moment, Ginny's face cupped in her hands like something precious. The girl's lids had dropped to half-mast and she swayed into Narcissa's touch without a sound.

She was beautiful like this, of that there could be no mistake, and sometimes Narcissa wished that she was mercenary enough to take advantage, or young enough to fool herself into believing that the warmth that spread out behind her breastbone every time they did this was an excuse to take her liberties.

But she was neither that young, nor that mercenary, so rather than leaning forward to taste the strawberry curve of her lower lip, Narcissa simply reached up, to tuck a stray strand of hair behind the arch of the girls ear, and whispered a soft _finite_.

Narcissa was halfway across the kitchen, her wand flicking here and there as she set about making tea, when Ginny started to blink and stir. The curse's veil lifting from her big brown eyes.

Narcissa schooled her face into its customary impassivity and offered the girl a cup.

"Milk? Sugar?"

"Honey and lemon?" she queried back hopefully, her voice a bit rough.

Digging through the pantry Narcissa found the requested items and set about preparing the tea under the girl's sharp assessing gaze.

She knew that Ginny was perfectly aware of what went on while she was under Narcissa's curse. It was the reason she was able to spy while so thoroughly ensorcelled, because while she trusted Narcissa unfalteringly, and thus was able to slip under the dreamlike haze of the truly Imperioused and act the part of the perfect Death Eater, she also kept her own control by being the one to accept Narcissa's commands.

It was probable that at this point the girl knew of Narcissa's feelings for her. After all, this was hardly the first time Narcissa had been tender with her while she was in this fragile, malleable state. But she said nothing, and Narcissa was grateful for that, because at least she wasn't being told to stop.

She would take what she could get.

* * *

AN: Originally meant to be a collab for the Candyland Pairing Game Challenge on HPFC but that didn't work out so I'm just posting my bit as a standalone drabble. Please enjoy and review to let me know what you thought :)


End file.
